Future Islands perform at Mohawk in April, 2014. Photo by Bryan C. Parker.
After an ingratiating and soft-spoken greeting in which Future Islands frontman Samuel T. Herring tells a packed Moody Theater about how in North Carolina, where he’s from, sometimes the only way to see music growing up was on Austin City Limits, the band gets right to work. The set opens with “Back in the Tall Grass,” and Herring’s body moves in tight little movements as the crowd watches the music move through him. Even at his most tame in these opening moments, the crowd hoops and hollers; they can see the intensity in his focused gaze. As the song builds, Herring moves into his sudden lurches and lunges as he bounds about the stage. Contained within the movements of his body one finds all the freedom of what it means to be human. It’s why Future Islands is the best band performing music today, and everybody knows it.
Future Islands perform at Mohawk in April, 2014. Photo by Bryan C. Parker.
The band moves into “A Dream of Me and You,” a song that perfectly balances the mellow emotive qualities of Future Islands but retains the uptempo, danceable beats that make their music so accessible. The song has often been reserved for nearer the end of their performances, but it works well here as Herring has the opportunity to employ some of his signature moves: reaching out toward the crowd and leaning down to scoop something out of the ground as he sings the lines, “It washed up at my feet, staring at the sea.” Herring walks to the edge of the stage and crouches, points out at the people sitting in the first row. My eyes track in the direction of his extended finger and find a dude bobbing his head enthusiastically, a smile plastered across his face.
Future Islands perform at Mohawk in April, 2014. Photo by Bryan C. Parker.
Seeing the faces of fans is one of the most enjoyable parts of watching a Future Islands show. The performance reaches the audience with such immediacy and power that everyone in the place grins through the whole performance, while dancing unabashedly, of course. Throughout the night, Herring continues to unveil his captivating antics; “Doves” affords the opportunity for some serious hip grinding that sends the audience into fits, and the wild, pulsing circus-synths of “Walking Through That Door” find Herring punching himself in the face and stumbling backward like a fallen boxer. The intensity is palpable and sends chills up my spine. This is a man meeting life on its own terms, accepting every glorious victory and miserable failure with the same amount of poise. Good god, what an inspiration!
Future Islands perform at Mohawk in April, 2014. Photo by Bryan C. Parker.
At the end of a few songs, Herring appears on the verge of tears, and perhaps there are a few welled up there in his eyes, mingling with the streams of sweat. But as the last, sustaining note of the song fades and dies, he snaps back to a grin and mutters a “Thank you” into the microphone. It is acting, yes, but it can’t be all acting. These songs derive from a personal place of darkness and hope. Before “A Song For Our Grandfathers,” Herring gestures to the right side of the venue, indicated his older brother who is in the crowd for the taping. These songs come straight from the spirit of their writer.
Future Islands perform at Mohawk in April, 2014. Photo by Bryan C. Parker.
One action that Herring repeats frequently is to pick up some imaginary object or take some object from within himself, as if he’s scooping some creature from the soil or extracting the essence of his being from his chest. He cradles it, caresses it, lays it on the ground and studies it gently, carefully. These actions serve as apt metaphors for his music. Here is Samuel T. Herring sharing all his pets with us–the neuroses, the pain, the joy–putting it all on display, holding nothing back. Seeing Future Islands live is a life changing experience. By the last song, Herring has everyone in the venue, even the top rows of the balcony, on their feet, cheering wildly.
Future Islands perform at Mohawk in April, 2014. Photo by Bryan C. Parker.
When the ACL episode is released, you can see for yourself. You’ll smile, be captivated, perhaps even be convinced of the band’s greatness, but it won’t be the same. Future Islands exist as a living endorsement of sharing in the immediate experience of live music and performance. I want everyone to experience this kind of performance, so understand I do not mean to exclude or be dismissive, but if you weren’t there, then you weren’t there. Go #seemusic Austin.
